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He laughs, flashing his too perfect teeth and too perfect smile. “You’re looking on the wrong side of the law, princess.”
My throat threatens to close. Swallowing is no longer an option. “Okay…” I can figure this out. “Obviously, you know Dan Roberts. So, I assume you’re a criminal. Maybe a lowlife dealer.”
Or a pimp? A thief?
“I’m worse than that.” His eyes harden, and I believe him.
He walks toward me, and I sidestep, making sure not to place additional space between me and the gun.
“A member of the mafia?” I ask.
He plants his feet and glares. “I’m the guy who finished the job you started.”
I keep moving, walking in a circle as his explanation runs through my head. Over and over. He’s deliberately playing more mind games, dragging this out to lengthen the torture.
Either that, or I’m truly not as smart as I once thought.
“Think about it, Steph,” he taunts. “What were you doing the night I met you?”
No. I frown and shake my head. I’m not going to allow that train of thought to make sense. I can’t.
“Come on now, princess,” he murmurs. “You can say it.”
I don’t want to.
He steps forward, once, twice. A slow, sure stride that intensifies my panic.
“You killed him,” I whisper.
I don’t know if it’s a question or a statement. It should be an adamant declaration. X marks this map like a neon sign in the dead of night. But I need it to be a question. And I desperately want the answer to be ‘no.’
There’s a slight pulse in his throat. The briefest glimpse of a hard swallow.
“Oh, my God.” He did kill Dan.
I stand before him, legs numb, chest heavy, heartbroken. Relief doesn’t flood me. I don’t feel vindicated. Instead, bile churns in a mass production in my stomach because the harsh man I’ve fallen for isn’t harsh at all. He is horrific.
“Why?” I’m still shaking, but now it’s not just my head. It’s my hands, my arms, my foundations.
I inch closer to the gun. It’s right there, three feet to my left.
His gaze drops to the weapon, then returns to my face. “Don’t do it.”
I need to. I have to. He isn’t going to let me walk. Obviously, I am stupid, but not that stupid.
He’s poised to strike, every muscled inch of him taut and ready.
I lunge to the side, my hands sliding through dirt, my fingers grating over gravel. He dives after me, grips my ankle, and pulls. I scream as he drags me backward, then to my feet, and into his arms.
I’m plastered to him. Back to chest. Ass to crotch.
“I told you not to do that,” he growls.
I kick. I scream. I thrash.
His hold tightens and he rushes forward, eating up the space to the car to press me into the cold metal. He smothers me, choking my strength under the heavy weight of memories.
He made me feel safe. He made me feel wanted. He made me feel. That is the worst part of all.
“Why?” I demand. “Why did you kill him?”
His breath brushes my neck. He’s so close, he’s under my skin. “Dan had a habit of finding useful information. But instead of handing it over to my contractor, he kept blackmailing for bigger sums of money. The guy was in a perfect position, hearing whispers from the police through his father. He could’ve gone far. Instead he got greedy.”
“And greed deserves death?” I snarl.
“Greed, and assault, and rape, among other things.” The growled words vibrate through my ribs. “I don’t feel guilty in the slightest, princess. So don’t try that shit on me.”
“And what about framing me? Do you feel guilty about that?”
He stills. “I didn’t frame you. I’ve done this enough times to know how to cover my ass. Nobody else has to take the fall.”
Again, it isn’t what I want to hear. I picture dead bodies at his feet. I
He steps back and I remain still, clinging to the car like it holds the answers to my problems. And maybe it does. The ignition fob is in the center console. Starting the engine and getting out of here is a button-click away.
“Look at me,” he demands.
No. Not going to happen. I refuse to look into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer and feel attraction. And that’s exactly what would happen if I met his gaze. I wouldn’t be able to help it. I wouldn’t be able to stop it.
“Steph, I need you to listen.”
“I’m listening.”
He sighs. “I didn’t get the information I needed from Dan. I followed you instead, and by the time I went back to the hotel, he was already too fucked up to talk.”
“What does that mean?” I stare out at the vacant fields, the miles of space between me and safety.
“I heard you interrogate him. I just didn’t get specifics. I now need the information he gave you. And I need to know why you wanted it.”
“I didn’t get any information.” Nothing his merry murderous crew would find useful, anyway.
“Don’t lie to me.” He grabs my elbow and tugs, making me face him. “He had the details on an informant, and I heard you asking him for a fucking name.”
He presses into me, thigh to thigh, hip to hip. His hands land on either side of my head, a threatening stance, if only those eyes weren’t slaying me.
I cluck my tongue at him. “That looming thing doesn’t work anymore. Last time you did it, I got an orgasm, remember?”
His lips kick, slow and subtle. “You can this time, too. All you need to do is give me the name.”
I fight a shudder. Fight and fight and fail. Tingles wrack my body, from collarbone to nipples and stomach. “No. Thanks.”
“Come on, Steph. What did he tell you?”
“Nothing,” I snap. “I didn’t get a damn thing.”
This man has already stripped me of too much—my dignity, my strength, my confidence. He won’t steal the secrets of my past, too.
“Please.” The plea is pained, almost believable. “I’m not joking. They’re going to come after you. That man you met earlier—Torian—is a bad guy. Worse than Dan. Worse than me. Worse than any motherfucker you’ve ever met. But if you talk, I can help you.”
I roll my eyes. “So this big, bad motherfucker lets me walk free if I talk?”
“I can protect you.”
“Oh, goodie.” I release a derisive chuckle. “Is this where I’m supposed to swoon?”
“No. This is where you tell me the fucking truth so both of us walk away from this unscathed.”
I chuckle again, and this time it hurts. Pressure consumes my chest, moving higher, wider, deeper. “Too late,” I whisper.
He lets out a heavy breath and leans in to rest the side of his head against mine. I want to fight for space, for freedom, but I can’t when everything inside me still aches for proximity.
I need to believe in his torment. That the pain he’s wrapping around me in tightening ribbons is real.
“I never meant for this shit to happen between us. I never meant to want you,” he admits. “And now we’re in a fucking mess, and the only way out is for you to tell me what you know.”
“Then trust me when I say whatever information you’re after, I didn’t get.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
He leans closer, those lips a breath away, his hips pressing harder. The thick length of his erection nestles against my pubic bone, and I freeze in disbelief.
This fucker is horny. And damn it, the thought of his arousal has the same effect on me. My nipples tingle. My pussy tightens.
“Tell me,” he whispers against my neck.
His mouth trails my skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake. He’s a murderer. A killer. And I still want to kiss him. Taste him. Devour him.